


DerBif & Cola

by sobrietyfrogs



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Bully, Bully Scholarship Edition - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Love Confessions, M/F, M/M, m/m - Freeform, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobrietyfrogs/pseuds/sobrietyfrogs
Summary: A commission comprised of Derby/Bif and Clint/Lola drabbles I completed that rounds out just around 9,000 words.
Relationships: Derby Harrington/Bif Taylor, Lola Lombardi/Clint
Kudos: 5





	1. Double Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derby and Bif think a little too similarly.

There is a chill in the air that creeps up Bif’s spine as he meanders along the walkway. This time of year the college campus scene is dead, almost barren save for the few stragglers skidding along the ice in their rush to attend their finals or turn in last minute work. As he shoulders his messenger bag he sticks his offhand into his pocket, fiddling with the suede box that had sat dutifully within for his entire train ride into the city and beyond. Though his fingers are numb, he runs his thumb over the surface and exhales, his breath misting into the air and an odd peace overcoming him, anxiety ebbing at its edges. He thinks to open the box, double, triple, even quadruple check that the contents of the box remain intact. He reminds himself that he has already done this several times along the way. Now it is up to fate… But that’s silly. He knows it’s in there. He knows.

He slips the box out anyway, flicking it open. 

A gentle sigh of relief. Bif had spent hours annoying the woman at the jewelers about which ring would be perfect enough to suit Derby’s immaculate tastes. In the soft satin sits a silver band, 12 clear diamonds surround the beautifully cut black one set in the center. 4 vertically line each side and 4 smaller ones are placed in each corner of the square-cut centerpiece. He had customized it with the hope that it would be something tasteful and, above all, memorable. The box gives a soft clap as he shuts it and puts it back into his pocket, burying his face into the scarf around his neck. He stops at a crosswalk and looks both ways, his next step nearly sending him sliding across the painted lines that were perfectly trapped beneath a sheet of ice. 

The sun is kissing the horizon by the time he reaches Derby’s apartment building. Luxurious, as Derby would have no less than a beautiful penthouse a stone’s throw from their campus. Even for him, it is a little excessive. Bif shuffles inside, wiping his shoes off at the entrance mat then heading for an elevator after a warm greeting from the woman at the desk. He is buzzing now with worries about how the evening will go. Dinner together is nothing out of the ordinary, but as his hand again finds the box in his pocket, he knows tonight will be just a bit different. The elevator dings and the ride up feels eternal. Leave it to Derby to live on the 20th floor, he muses fondly.

Another ding and Bif steps out, straightens his posture and takes a deep breath before he heads up the few steps to Derby’s door. He gives a soft knock, not unlike his mother’s own when she would dare disturb his father at work. There is silence at first from the other side before a familiar call of, “Hold on!” is heard from within, somewhere near the bedroom he assumes. He checks his watch only to realize he is nearly fifteen minutes early. Has he caught Derby off guard? He chuckles to himself at the thought as some muffled movement makes itself known. The door swings open a minute later and there Derby stands, one hand clutched to the door knob and the other pushing blonde locks out of his face. To Bif, he appears discombobulated. Something is throwing him off of his rhythm, which is very unusual. Despite this, he steps aside to allow the other in. They brush shoulders as he passes. 

“You’re freezing. Did you actually walk here?”  
“Yeah. Didn’t realize it was gonna snow again.”  
“It’s the dead of winter in New England, not sure how you couldn’t have worked that one out.” 

There is the Derby he knows. Bif unravels his scarf as Derby closes the door behind them both. He’s regained his composure and adjusts his collar while the redhead hangs his scarf and then his bag on the hooks provided. He comes up beside Bif and offers a chaste kiss to the lips to which the latter rolls his eyes. Bif tucks a hand under Derby’s chin and pulls him back in. They share a longer kiss this time, the both of them leaning into the affection. They have not seen each other in roughly a week or two due to mismatched schedules or energies. This meeting for dinner had been Bif’s end-of-semester celebration suggestion. They spent more time at Derby’s and it only makes sense that they continue that tradition. With a paid chef for the evening, neither of them have many worries. 

“So, how’d the cook do?”  
“I don’t understand why you didn’t cook yourself… But, I can’t say that I have any negative thoughts. Aside from what looked like the most disgusting overuse of seasoning I’ve ever seen.”  
“You eat unsalted chips. Anything above a pinch of salt is gonna be like a spice cabinet for you.”  
“Watch yourself, dear boy. My tastebuds are refined and you know that better than anyone else.” 

Bif laughs again and Derby leads him into the dining area. There is a small bustle in the kitchen and Bif nods slowly, taking in the sight of the spread. His directions have certainly been followed to a T and everything looks just as he had asked for it to. His plan is going perfectly, and as he links arms with Derby his nerves calm themselves. They stand in the doorway, lingering as final preparations are made so as to aesthetically complete the meal. Murmurs about this and that, how is school, how were your finals, they mesh in the gentle ambiance of the room itself. Candles are lit and that is their cue to sit down. Bif leads Derby to the head of the table, pulling the chair out for him and then seating himself next to him. As always, Derby’s more affectionate nature emerges when they have had time to settle in. Dating for five years proved that this was never going to change. 

Bif’s hand envelops Derby’s in a caring grasp and they are served moments after. They eat, drink, enjoy each other’s time to a point where they both lose count of the hours. 

They have sat and talked for a while before one of them is reminded of the real reason they are here. Bif smiles and gives a nod to Derby’s story about something in school, something he had tuned out of a few moments ago to mentally prepare himself for what is to come. His hand finds his pocket for the umpteenth time that day and this time, he is more than sure of himself. He pulls the box from his pocket in a slick manner that even Derby does not take notice of and rests it on his lap to wait for him to finish speaking. When he does, Bif’s free hand takes his and squeezes it.  
“Can I ask you something?”  
“You just did.”  
“Derby.”  
“Yes, yes, of course you can. Aren’t you supposed to be the funny one of us both?” 

Bif rolls his eyes, both hands grasping Derby’s. 

“Listen, I wanted you to know that nights like tonight are something I missed. A lot. It’s nice to sit and talk and enjoy each other, not even think about school or problems that we might have outside of here. I love to spend this time with you and I don’t even know what I’d be doing right now if it wasn’t this.” 

As he speaks, he slowly slides out of his chair, maneuvering himself down on one knee. Derby at first is rendered speechless and simply watches. Something about his expression tells Bif this may not have been the right timing. Regardless, he continues. 

“I want to keep on experiencing nights like tonight with you. Forever, you know? So… I guess what I’m trying to ask you is… Will you do me the honor of spending these nights together forever..? Will you marry me?” 

The silence that hangs between them is earth shattering. Derby stares at him. While Bif knows he is not the most emotional man alive, in fact he is quite the opposite, he does not quite understand the strange expression that Derby’s face is attempting to twist into. There is no joy, perhaps a tad bit of shock that he can read. The ring box is open, snug in Bif’s palm as it is presented to Derby. The blond heaves a sigh and Bif thinks he can feel his heart seize. No words are exchanged, instead Derby stands and walks away from the table. Bif scrambles to his feet, sitting the box on the table and watching his lover disappear through the door frame. He could cry in that moment, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits back in his seat, deflated. Was his timing off? Did he say something wrong? He cannot imagine what move he made that would turn Derby off to his proposal. He perks up, sitting straight when he hears footsteps reapproaching. 

He does not turn to face Derby, instead he stares dejectedly at the ring. A small breeze hits him as Derby moves past him a little speedier than when he had departed. Derby plops back into his seat and a softened clatter is heard when he tosses something onto the table, toward Bif. Only then does he look up and realize his mistake. Another box, red instead of the blue he had presented, had been thrown in his direction. Now it is him who dons the confusion, looking to Derby whose face had soured. He pouts indignantly. 

“Derby-”  
“Well, you’ve ruined the surprise, I suppose.”  
“Or… We just had the same idea.”

Bif slides his own box toward Derby, popping open the one he had been given. It too is silver, though in the center sat a large, singular diamond snug in a carved groove. It is gorgeous, something not too gaudy and just the right amount of expensive looking. He loses himself in the reflection of the diamond, raising his head when he remembers where he is. Derby has already slipped Bif’s ring onto his finger and is admiring it, some of his anger seemingly melted away. Maybe this is not such a bad thing. 

“..You like it?”  
“I do… How did you know I was looking at black diamond?”  
“You’re not too secretive, Derby.”  
“I beg to differ, considering you didn’t know I was going to do this first… Unless you did, and you wanted to upstage me. Understandable.”

A pause.

“Do you like yours?”

Bif stands again, stepping to Derby’s side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, the hand with the ring on it splaying its fingers to show it off. 

“Couldn’t be happier.”


	2. Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derby cleans Bif up after a match.

Raucous shouting of several overlapping voices comes in waves to Bif’s ringing ears. Cheers never fail to make him proud, knowing whether he has lost or won the match, he has given those watching something to talk about in the cafeteria the next day. Glass Jaw hosts these open-challenge matches every other Friday evening to give the youth of Bullworth the opportunity to go head to head with its boxing champion. Bif’s hardly been beat - save for once, thanks to Jimmy Hopkins. Those memories are long gone now that the school has changed its ways and he continues to reign supreme. 

His opponent is carted off, having been knocked out cold. He hadn’t meant to hit him that hard, but Bif regularly miscalculates his own strength. He feels himself chuckle while he backs up and leans against the ring to catch his breath. 

He raises one of his gloved fists in triumph, to which he can hear the small crowd roar with excitement. The chattering of his friend group comes closer and he feels two sets of hands assist him out of the ring. Chad and Bryce handle him with care, Tad and Gord following with a spew of praise he still has trouble getting used to. The ringing dies down as the background noise does too and Bif regains his footing, adrenaline wearing down as he swipes blood off his brow. He feels good even so, proud of himself for maintaining his title and status. 

He loses himself momentarily in the bustle and excitement, chatting away with the other Preps as they make sure he gets upstairs to the lounge room safely. He insists he’ll be fine, he’s been through much worse. Still, they care about him, idolize him even. He’s become something of a parental figure to their group and he would not have it any other way. 

With a towel around his neck and a water bottle retrieved for him from the vending machine tucked into the crook of his elbow, he enters the room on the second floor. Derby awaits him there, standing up from the couch when the door clicks behind him. The blond smirks as he approaches, reaching to unlace Bif’s gloves as if it were second nature. In a sense, it is. 

“You did well out there, dear boy.”  
“For once I have to agree with you. I didn’t mean to knock the kid out cold though.”

“Nonsense,” Derby chides, one glove sliding off and giving Bif the chance to grab his water bottle. “He’ll be fine. He may be unconscious but he doesn’t look as rough as you do.” He unlaces the other and slides it off as well, side-stepping Bif to hang them on the wall. “Besides, he’s the son of some doctor in the Vale. Not like they won’t know what to do with him.” 

Bif shrugs. “I guess. Still sucks, I’d hate to leave a match knocked out.” He uncaps the bottle and gulps it down, watching Derby through one eye as he gestures for Bif to follow him over to the couch. He obliges. “Yes, well, you won’t have to worry about any of that, will you? I haven’t seen you lose a single match all year.” An assurance from Derby is something special, and Bif shrugs while he screws the cap back onto the bottle. He sets it aside and Derby reaches up, turning the other’s head with his hand gently gripping his chin. 

“I guess I’ve been on a pretty good winning streak. I don’t like to brag.”  
“Oh, but you should. Even I haven’t kept up a streak this long. Seems no matter who’s come to town, you roll right over them.” 

While he says this, Derby brings a cool cloth to Bif’s face. He begins to rub at the slowly drying trails of blood that dripped from the redhead’s brow. He folds the cloth when it begins to run together, and hums as he searches for the source of the bleeding. He finds it rather soon, and works to clean the wound. Bif winces and pulls away a bit, but Derby’s grip turns firm to hold him there.

“Now, now,” He looks Bif directly in the eyes. “We’ve done this a hundred times. No squirming.”  
“It hurts.”  
“Obviously. But it’ll hurt worse if you move.” 

Derby makes quick work of Bif’s injuries and soon he is bandaged up. There may not be any bruises until the next day, and so he continues to clean up the blood and sweat from Bif’s face. His cloth swipes over Bif’s jaw and eventually down his neck, so focused that when he glances up he realizes the other has simply been watching him the entire time. 

“Can I help you?”  
“You already are, I’d say.”  
“Oh, shut up.” 

He cracks a smile, his tone teasing when he responds. “Y’know, there’s only one way to get that done.” And Derby cocks a brow at him. “And what would that way be?” Bif, feeling cocky after his win, reaches up to tap a finger to his own cheek. 

“You must have gotten some internal injuries out there, namely a concussion.” Derby scoffs, glancing out the floor to ceiling windows that lined one half of the room. Then, he looks back to Bif, balling up the cloth now stained with light splotches of blood. It’s tossed aside not a moment later and he scooches closer, medical supplies forgotten. He’s weighed his options and perhaps Bif was onto something. “I’m the doctor here,” He begins, almost cringing into himself at the playful tone he attempts. “I think I ought to prescribe something better.” 

With that, Derby presses his lips to Bif. It is a surprising move to the both of them, but not unwelcome. Bif returns the affections, his hand raising to cup the side of Derby’s face and brush a thumb over his cheek. Derby’s hand rests on Bif’s shoulder, thumb pressed against his collarbone as he leans in more. His other rests on his thigh and Bif’s free hand comes to rest over it, giving it a light squeeze as they part. 

“Can’t say that I feel better, but I know I’m on the way.” is the immediate, silence-breaking response to their kiss. Derby snorts. 

“It’s a prescription. Several doses need to be taken before it kicks in. I thought you were supposed to be smart, Taylor.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I know, we can’t all be as smart and beautiful as you.”  
“That’s correct.” 

Out of habit, Derby glances out of the windows again. His eyes widen as he sees the other Preps below, almost all staring back at him in shared bewilderment. Bif notices his change in expression and follows his gaze. He locks eyes with Pinky in particular, and simply shrugs. She hardly seems shocked. He tugs Derby in by the tie and kisses him again, shamelessly this time.

If anyone can say anything about Bif Taylor, it’s that he’s a show off.


	3. After Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone takes a shining to Bif. Derby is not pleased.

Derby’s duffle bag collides with the floor when he throws it in a manner most uncouth. The locker room is empty save for him, Bif, and another night owl who’s decided to get a few extra hours of practice in. The third man is across the room while the two prepare themselves for their own after hours practice. There is an icy silence between them and Bif has yet to hear why he is being given the cold shoulder or why Derby feels the need to throw things and slam lockers. He decides it is best to leave it be for now, instead focusing on dressing and lacing up his shoes. He puts his own bag into his locker when finished, heading over to one of the sinks to look at himself in the mirror. He feels exhausted, unsure of why but hoping the exercise will wake him up a little bit. 

He fixes his hair, even turns to the side to take in the sight of his body. He feels like he’s lost some muscle mass in the last few months. Maybe that’s why Derby’s insisted on this weekly night practice, they need to bulk back up. Staying in shape is an important part of the balance they keep in their lives. 

Bif is concentrated on these thoughts and his appearance. He does not notice the third man from before taking up the sink beside him and intends to head out, beginning to wash his hands. The man makes himself known by clearing his throat. Bif looks up and over to him as he rinses soap from between his fingers. “Hey, man. Other sinks not working?” 

“No, that’s not it.” The stranger answers, twirling loose, black strands of hair around one finger. He stands a good foot shorter and his eyes are big and blue. They stare up at Bif with a sort of shy admiration. He’s lean but fit, someone who Bif may have figured his type on any other day. “I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous.” The words are spoken with a little more confidence, though his flushed cheeks speak for his true feelings. Bif cannot help but to chuckle a little. 

“Hey, thanks.”  
“No, really..! You look like one of those Greek gods in the little myth books. They’re chiseled and some of them even have hair the same color as yours. Kind of like Ares, you know… The God of War.”   
“Haven’t heard that one before. I appreciate that though, man. Really. I’ve been a little worried about how I look lately. Feels good to hear it might just be in my h--” 

One of the lockers slams behind them. Startled, Bif still moves to dry his hand as he glances behind and sees Derby storm out of the locker room. He wipes the rest of the water off on his pants. The stranger looks back to him, confused. Bif raises an apologetic hand to wave goodbye.

“Was nice talking to you, but I think I gotta go talk to my friend.”   
“Sure thing, I was just leaving anyway.” 

He heads off after that, searching for Derby among the punching bags and weight training areas. He finds him at the punching bag nearest to the door, fiercely attacking it as if it had personally hurt him. The bag swings around from the force of Derby’s blows and the blond grits his teeth, not paying any mind to Bif. Whether that is because the leader is focused or because he is intentionally dismissive of him, he cannot tell. His teeth are clenched and Bif wonders if his hands are hurting from how much effort he is putting into his punches. 

“Derby?”

He is met with silence aside from the thuds of the punches. Now he knows this is intentional, but cannot recall anything he’s done wrong. He moves to sit on the bench near to the space and allow Derby to work out his feelings. There seems to be no other solution, and he swears he can see blue eyes flit to him once every few hits, each time they meet eyes those hits become angrier and pointed. Just as he thought, the blond finally gives and halts his abuse of the training equipment. Normally they will switch out and talk technique, but this time Bif awkwardly stands and heads toward the bag. Derby does not move. 

“What’s wrong with you?”  
“Nothing. What’s wrong with you?” 

Bif stares at Derby a moment. “Me..? What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“You sure?” Suddenly, Derby hauls up and kicks the bag hard enough that it knocks into Bif. It knocks him back a few steps and he puts a hand over his chest once he regains his balance. “Maybe you’re right. You sure had no problem speaking to that drifter or whatever that mongrel looking trespasser was that was in the locker room.” Now he is confused.

“What are you talking about?”   
“You know damn well what I mean.”   
“I genuinely don’t think I do.” 

Another silence hangs over them and Derby steps aside, fully in view now. He looks furious at Bif’s confusion and the latter can only take another few steps back in preparation for what he assumes will be the lecture of a lifetime. Finally, Derby runs a hand through his hair but stops, gripping his head in a dramatically exasperated manner.

“You don’t even realize anything. You’re so stupid.”   
“I could probably realize if you just told me what was going on instead of calling me names.” 

Derby’s hands fall and he marches up to Bif, getting into his face and poking a finger harshly into his chest. “Don’t you realize that it hurts me?!”

“That what hurts you?!”  
Now Derby pushes him. “Just allowing any old carpetbagger off the street to speak to you like you’re some prize cut of meat! How dare you!” 

“Derby, stop putting your hands on me. Are you telling me you’re jealous of that guy from the locker room?”  
“And that… Bitch that you spoke to at the gates!”   
“That’s a cleaning lady, Derby-”  
“I don’t care who they are!” 

Derby steps to him again but this time Bif catches his hands before he can do anything else. They struggle a moment but ultimately Derby is overpowered and held in place. He finally calms though he appears to be on the verge of tears. Bif can finally see what is going on fully and he waits a few moments to allow them both the pause they need. He loosens his hold on Derby’s wrists and lets him go, but the blond simply falls into him. This is a side of Derby that Bif is somehow familiar with, but distant from all the same. His face is buried into Bif’s neck and with an awkward movement Bif wraps his arms around him. The silence is strange and tense, but their embrace provides a strange relief. At least he had not done anything wrong. Eventually, the silence is broken.

“Bif, I love you.” 

He feels his cheeks flush. Derby feels ill, unsure of his feelings and destabilized by that uncertainty. But, ever-forward and crass, something in his mind gives him the go ahead to just say what he is thinking. Bif’s gaze floats to the ring in the center of the room, they’re blank as he tries to gather his own thoughts. He can feel Derby tense in his arms, perhaps unnerved by the lack of response. 

“...I.. Think I love you, too, Derby.” He murmurs, looking down to be met with Derby’s own blue hues. “I think I always have and I didn’t really wanna acknowledge it. I could never tell if you were into me, and… What would our parents think, y’know? Maybe that’s why I was cool with being flirted with. I could stop thinking about it.” 

Derby sighs, pushing himself off of Bif. “You’re right. This is completely unacceptable. Forget I said anything.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Bif quickly corrects, taking one of Derby’s wrists again. “Just because I was worried about that doesn’t mean I’m not open to anything.” He tugs him close again and this time Derby allows it. “It’s not like we couldn’t keep quiet about it if we needed to.. We’ve always been friends. Nobody would suspect anything.” 

“I have to say, dear boy, that’s not a bad plan.”   
“Yeah, well, I think I have plenty of good plans.”  
“I’d beg to differ.”  
“You don’t have to beg unless you want to.”   
Derby shoves him almost playfully and in response Bif leans down, capturing Derby’s lips with his own. Is this his way of proving his point? Maybe. Plans took precision, and this is something more akin to impulsivity. Neither of them care, though, and are soon tangled up with one another. The club surrounds them with an emptiness that no longer feels so cold and frightening and they think, together and without realizing, that they’ve got it in the bag.


	4. Mr. & Mr. Harrington-Taylor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DerBif as parents. Derby has a pet peacock.

A loud bird call disrupts the quiet of Bullworth Vale, followed by a cluster of shouting voices. For the couple that is meant to be the wealthiest, most respected head of their HOA, Derby and Bif cause quite the ruckus even on calm, perfect mornings like this one. Feathers fly as Bif all but punts Barnaby the peacock across the room, a small child’s voice laughing gleefully as the animal flies, plopping in a splayed mess by their front door.

“Bif!” 

As Bif tends his forearm, bleeding in one or two spots from Barnaby’s awful bites, Derby kneels by the bird and helps him to his feet. A small blonde child clings to Bif’s leg, still in giggle fits over what she had just witnessed. There is never a dull day in her home.

“What? He bit me, again! You need to cage him, Derby. He’ll end up biting Paige if you’re too careless.”   
“Doubtful, as Paige knows how to interact with Barnaby. He just doesn’t like you.” 

Paige hops in place, hands still clinging to Bif’s pant leg. “Barby’s a good boy!” Hearing his name, Barnaby approaches carefully. Paige lets go of Bif to walk over to him and pet his head. The animal leans into her touch, as most do. Considering neither of the men were ever that great with animals, it is a wonder that their daughter has some kind of secret skill with them. She keeps many pets (or, well, they keep many pets for her), but none has she loved as much as she loves Barnaby. 

“That’s right, my dear.” Derby affirms, standing and coming over to pat her on the head. At the sight of Bif, he rolls his eyes. “Come, you. Let’s get that cleaned up. Don’t whine this time.” 

All four of them end up in the kitchen, Paige sits on the counter as Barnaby goes about pecking around all of the canisters and decorations. Bif leans on the counter closest to the medicine cabinet where Derby rummages through their medical supplies for bandaids and peroxide. When he has both in hand, he cleans Bif’s beak wounds and places bandaids over them. 

“Want a kiss for those booboos?” He teases, smirking at his husband then rolling his eyes. He puts everything away. “And you say I’m the drama king. Fat chance.” 

“Oh, shut up--”  
“Hey! Not nice, daddy!” 

Paige pipes up from her seat on the counter, a serious expression contradicting her hold on Barnaby, who sits in her lap as if he is a baby himself. She plants a kiss on the bird’s head and he looks around dumbly though he looks comfortable with her.   
“Sorry, sweetheart. I forgot.” He apologizes softly, though her sweet demeanor does nothing to quell the anger he feels at the fact that Barnaby has to live in his home. He does not detest the bird but he would be thankful to not be bitten on a daily basis only to have to attend work covered in bandages. Perhaps Derby will not understand as he has never been bitten by his own animal, but the peacock has come after Bif many times with a vengeance. 

“Very good, Paige.” 

The girl swells with joy at the praise. While raising a child has been all sorts of challenging, it has done Derby well to see his efforts award some results. Paige Harrington-Taylor is nothing short of a remarkable child, three years old and well spoken in not one or two but three languages, able to play a few children’s songs on the piano, already enrolled in dance classes, and still she begs both of her parents for more activities. Granted, he could give much of the credit to Bif who had insisted she be a well rounded child, not focused on strictly business and advancing her acquisition of wealth. While this idea had been strange to accommodate at first, Derby is thankful for it now. 

He steps over to plant a kiss to her forehead. Bif sighs, joining the two across the kitchen and opening his arms for a hug. They all lean in, Barnaby included, and share a family hug. The love between them is well worth the commotions they cause. As they all pull away, Bif pauses. Then, he throws his head back in exasperation.

“Derby! He pissed on the counter!”   
“Daddy! Language!” 

The two men share a look, one in shambles and the other trying his best not to burst into laughter. Paige looks between them, Barnaby slides right through his own urine and hops off the counter, running in another direction with wet footprints following him. “Never a dull day!” Paige blurts, hopping down on her own. 

“Never a dull day.” Derby and Bif repeat.


	5. Pica is a Girl's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a funny idea. It's not really that funny.

“Yeah, um, I’m calling because my boyfriend’s having real bad stomach pain… I don’t know what he had to eat or anything. He like, won’t tell me. Sometimes he eats rocks and things though so maybe it’s something like that? … I mean, yeah. I guess if that’s what you think we need to do. Alright. Yeah, thank you.” 

Lola hangs up the phone, rubbing the side of her face. What a time to not have a car. Scrolling through her contacts, she tries to call her brother to no avail. It’s the middle of the night, most of anyone she could get into contact with is dead asleep. She sighs, continuing to pick and call who she thinks might come through. Eventually, she gives up and looks down at Clint whose head is in her lap. He clutches his stomach though he’s been silent this entire time as she strokes his head with her free hand. 

“Babe… Do you know any of your friends’ numbers? Do any of them work night shifts? We need to take you to the hospital.”   
“Don’t wanna go to the hospital.”  
“I didn’t say you had a choice, big guy. Do you know any numbers?”   
“I think I got Gurney’s on the fridge. I lost my phone.” 

She moves him aside gently and now he groans. Clint always takes pain like a champ, to the point where Lola sometimes forgets he actually does feel it. This is a very uncomfortable reminder. She wishes he would just tell her what he ate so that they wouldn’t have to go to the hospital or bug any of their friends to get them there. But, Lola knows life never goes as planned. She finds Gurney’s number on the fridge she dials it, he picks up a bit too quickly.

“Yo, you got Gurney.”  
“Gurney, this is Lola-”  
“Well hellooooo lady voice! What’s got you ringin’ me up at two in the morning?”  
“...Clint’s girlfriend,” Lola continues, rolling her eyes.

“Oho, shit! Ain’t we met?” Gurney’s voice is grating and annoys Lola to no end. As of right now, though, he’s their only hope.   
“Listen, I need to get Clint to the hospital but neither of us have cars. He said to give you a call.”   
“Shit, he okay?”  
“I don’t know. That’s why we need to go.”  
“Well hell, no need to get your panties in a twist. I’ll come get you guys. Least I could do.” 

She is beyond surprised at his eagerness to assist, but perhaps she’s underestimated the people that Clint associates with. She isn’t going to make any remarks either. No need to mess things up when she’s found the solution to their problem. Lola relays her address to Gurney and they hang up. When she returns to the living room Clint is in the fetal position on the couch. She grabs his coat from the rack and helps him to put it on, sliding her own on after and pulling him closer to her so that they are snuggled up to one another while they wait. 

“How you feelin’, baby?”  
“I’ll be alright, babe. Swear. I’m like a tank. I can take anything.” 

Despite this, he cuddles up to her and her arms wrap around him. He may be big and scary during the day, but around Lola he may as well be a giant baby. She holds him and strokes his back until there’s a knock at the door to which she calls for the guest to come in. A tall man with a goatee enters and she can only assume this is Gurney. He looks exactly as she’d imagined he would and she would laugh at this under any other circumstance.

“Hey there dollface,” His voice attempts to coo. “I guess you’re Lola.”   
“Watch it man,” Clint groans with his face still buried in Lola’s shoulder. “That’s my girl.”   
“Yeah yeah. Come on you big dummy. I don’t know how you got this fine piece of ass but I know it ain’t ‘cuz you were gonna make her carry you to my car all alone.” 

Clint shifts and with Gurney’s help he stands. Lola follows and they get him into the car. She sits in the back with him, comforting him and hoping this isn’t serious. 

The ride to the hospital is quiet, save for Gurney’s strange radio picks, and when they arrive they park. Gurney and Lola get Clint out of the car and help him inside the emergency entrance. Lola handles the business at the desk and thankfully they do not have to wait long because of the time of night. Lola thanks Gurney for his help and hands him a few dollars - all of what she’s got left for the month. He isn’t allowed to follow them back so he wishes them luck and leaves his number with her to make sure that he hears an update. 

Though they had not needed to wait long for a room, after the bustle of taking Clint’s vitals and getting him hooked up to this and that they sit in silence for what feels like hours. Lola’s chair is pulled up to Clint’s bedside and she holds onto one of his hands, leaning down and nearly dozing as she rests against his arm. He watches her lovingly and begins to wonder if this was worth it. He’s actually hurting pretty badly. 

A knock at the door signals the doctor’s arrival and Lola does most of the talking, giving all of the information she knows. Clint allows her to, as this is usually how their doctor visits go. Upon hearing about his abdominal pain, the doctor asks if he has swallowed anything unusual whether on accident or on purpose. Clint pauses sheepishly.

“Well… Yeah. I uh…” He gestures for the doctor to come closer to him and whispers something to the man. The doctor sits up and Lola can sense that he’s lost a bit of his professionalism after what he’s heard.   
“I don’t mean to overstep any boundaries, but that is an incredibly stupid thing to have done. I’m going to order a retrieval of a foreign body with an EDG. I’m assuming you’ll want to keep some of what we retrieve?”  
“Yeah doc. Just that though. You can toss the other shit in the trash, with your opinion about what’s stupid or not for me to do.” 

Lola stares at the two of them, confused. When the doctor leaves she looks back to Clint expectantly. What is he keeping from her? Is he actually embarrassed by what he’s done? Day to day, Clint is perfectly happy to tell her that he’s swallowed everything from coins to cotton to rocks, he even will proudly tell her if he’s eaten some kind of raw meat. But whatever this is is too much? She is almost hurt. 

“What did you do, Clint?”   
“I didn’t do nothin’.”   
“Obviously you did something…”  
“Give it time, babe. Give it a little time.” 

Unsatisfied with this answer, Lola sits back in her chair. She rubs at her face in an attempt to not let herself cry, but for some reason the emotions overwhelm her. She has always been a little more than insecure and hates secrets being kept from her more than anything. Clint being ill and in the hospital and on top of that not telling her the reason for his pain upsets her. He reaches out and despite her mixed feelings she leans in again. He wipes a stray tear away.

“Don’t cry on me now. It ain’t nothin’ serious.” 

He groans again, immediately disputing the idea that it isn’t a big deal. Lola stands, hovering over him a little and stroking his face now, kissing his forehead as he rides through a pain wave. She wonders if whatever he ate is giving him cramps. She doesn’t wonder long as the doctor enters again after a knock and Clint is being carted off for a small procedure. Lola flops in her chair, using Clint’s jacket as a blanket and curling up there. She plays on her phone for all of fifteen minutes before there is another knock, this time though it does not sound like a doctor. 

She calls for them to come and a group of scraggly men shuffle into the room one after the other, led by none other than Gurney. How they had been allowed in the back she did not know, but when they all saw her, watery eyed, exhausted, and curled up in the hospital chair, they swarmed her. Apparently these were Clint’s friends, all of them. Each and every one of his townie buds had come to check up on him, most likely with the help of Gurney. By the time Clint is wheeled back into the room, they have her feeling almost normal and assured that everything will be okay. 

That assurance is doubled when the doctor confirms it, everything went smoothly. Lola gets the chance to ask her burning question, what exactly had he consumed? The doctor sighs and admits that he had somehow managed to swallow both xacto blades and a fish hook, along with a third unidentifiable object. A strange mixture of shock and relief is washed over her. She will definitely be on his case when he is recovered about why this had to be such a big secret - and why he had to swallow blades and fish hook of all things.

She and the townies chat quietly among themselves as they wait for Clint to wake back up. From the procedure, it seems the doctor did let him keep something they took out after all. A small bag marked as a biohazard was clutched in one of his hands. Lola can’t imagine that he would have wanted to keep the blades, so maybe he’s got the hook… But would they allow him to keep a sharp object? She has not a clue. Still bundled in his coat, she has a few of the guys scoot her chair back up to his bedside when he finally stirs. 

The guys surround every other open space around the bed and he startles at the sight of them all, laughing as he comes to. “Shit guys, what’re you all doin’ here?”

“We had to know if you were okay, man.” One of them, Jerry, Lola thinks, is the first to speak.  
“Yeah! We weren’t about to let our favorite rock muncher just chill in the hospital alone. What kinda assholes would we be for that?” Another, Omar, tacks on.   
“And we met your girlfriend.” A final man punctuates. This one is Duncan. 

By then, she climbs up into the bed with him and he scoots as best he can to let her do this. She doesn’t care what it may look like to his friends or if they judge him for loving her and quite frankly, neither does he. No, instead he uses his one hand to unravel the biohazard bag she noticed before. He digs into it, chuckling to himself.

“I been savin’ up for awhile and I made ‘em clean this stupid fuckin’ thing when it came outta me so that I could keep it. But, I want you to hang onto it ‘til I can get you a prettier one when we get married.” 

Before she can make a comment, he brandishes a ring. It’s simple, silver with a gold rose design and one diamond set in the center of the flower. Lola is speechless, a flood of different emotions overflowing within her. Without thinking and completely forgetting that his friends surround them, she first hits Clint directly in the chest with a closed fist. With the wind knocked out of him, he laughs.

“You swallowed knives so you could propose to me?!”   
“Yeah, nobody else ever did anything like it before!” 

Lola sits up straight, head in her hands. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you.”  
“Wait, are you sayin’ no?”  
“I- No! I just- Why would you-” 

She pauses to collect herself. There is no sense in getting riled up. 

“No, I’m saying yes. Yes I’ll hang onto it until we get married. Just… Don’t ever do that to me again or you won’t live long enough to see another wedding.”   
“You got it babe.” 

Lola shakes her head, taking the ring from him and putting it on. Surprisingly, it fits perfectly. She admires it, lost in its simple intricacy until a hand rests on her shoulder. It’s Gurney. “Damn, girl. I can’t compete with that. You really love her, don’t you bud?” Clint just grins. “Hell yeah.” 

Lola can’t help but to laugh now that all of the emotion has worn down. With another sigh, she leans down and kisses Clint. The guys cheer, an odd feeling. Almost like they are on TV. She leads the strangest life ever, she thinks.

But she wouldn’t change it for the world.


	6. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Lola are moving on up in the world together.

The apartment is cold, close to freezing as Lola flips the switch near the new, electric fireplace. She is bundled up in a blanket pulled from one of the bags of her possessions they had lugged inside and plops back onto her behind to warm up. Clint had hooked up their TV before he had left to pick up their dinner. She watches some show that plays with the volume down and pulls her knees to her chest. This decision had been long planned but still it feels like she is flying along in a whirlwind. In the span of a few months she and Clint had gathered up enough money to make a move into their own, shared apartment. They live closer to the Vale, a strange feeling for someone who’s grown up in New Coventry. 

For once in her life, Lola is careful with her spending and handles all of their bills with perhaps more responsibility than she has lended to anything she has ever done. She will do all she can to never screw this opportunity up and build a life with Clint worth living. 

The door creaks as it opens and Lola turns around to see him walking in with a large bag of takeout boxes. She is giddy, a craving for Chinese having sent him on that mission nearly an hour ago. He grins when he sees her, kicking off his boots and actually remembering to close and lock the door behind him. He comes to sit beside her and gives her a big kiss, she leans into it almost climbing into his lap from excitement. Instead, she opens up the bags and lays out all they’ve ordered. There is no rhyme or rhythm to their food orders, they simply get a few orders of this and that and share. It makes eating out a thousand times easier than picking things out individually. 

It did not take long before Lola did end up in Clint’s lap. The mattresses would be delivered the next day and they are going to have to make it work with a blanket nest on the floor for the night. Not that either of them mind, they had slept in worse places. They have each other and that is the only thing on either of their minds. Lola revels in the food and the feeling of being completely and totally alone with Clint. Her brother often stays with them and she finds herself annoyed when she cannot spend enough time with her boyfriend instead. That will change now that he has moved to his own place as well.

When their dinner is finished and they have set aside their trash in a bag for a bin that has yet to be bought, Lola falls asleep. Clint follows her lead only after preparing the nest of blankets for them both. He cocoons her in her blanket, wraps himself in one of their comforters, and they sleep hard enough that by the morning they are nothing but a tangle of limbs. That is, until Lola jolts awake from a sudden nausea. She untangles herself from their blankets and speeds off as best she can for the bathroom, hand clapped over her mouth until she gets there. She does not know why and internally scolds herself for doing so, but she leans into the tub instead of the toilet to throw up. 

Clint is easy to wake and jumps as soon as she leaves, wordlessly following her into the bathroom and watching her throw up while he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He bends down and rubs her back, half asleep but present enough in the moment to comfort her. He pukes often and even if he thinks it’s fun, he knows she sure doesn’t. When she finished she tears off a few squares of the toilet paper left sitting on the tub edge, wiping her mouth and tossing the paper into the toilet. She sits back and leans on Clint.

“Damn babe. That was a lotta throw up.”   
“I know… I don’t know what the hell that was about.”   
“You okay?”  
“Yeah, for now at least. Can we go back to bed?” 

The days pass, sometimes slow and sometimes a lot faster than either of them expects. They enjoy their space, they spend endless time together between their work schedules, and they slowly begin to build up the space that they (mostly Lola) dream of having. The only problem is that Lola continues to feel strange after her singular bout of sickness. This feeling lasts weeks and it worries the both of them as even Clint notices a difference. A missed cycle only adds to the confusion, and on a whim she purchases a pregnancy test. She does not mention this to Clint. If it’s negative, she vows to herself to go to the doctor at the very least and not bother mentioning that she had even taken one. If it comes back positive, well…

It does, so she supposes she’ll have to come up with a plan. 

Hours later before Clint gets home Lola feels as if she is in some kind of prank YouTube video. She had gone out after her initial positive and purchased more tests to double check. After 7 positives she can no longer deny that there might be something to this. She sits at home with the tests in a plastic bag, looking them over and wondering just how to deliver the news. Would telling him straight be too simple? She sighs. They cannot afford to go all out on some extravagant reveal, but she doesn't want it to be delivered like a basic answer to “how was your day”. She paces the kitchen, maybe for a little longer than she intends as she hears the lock turn and the door open. Clint steps in and she pops out from around the corner of the kitchen doorway.

“Hi baby!”  
“Hey babe… How you feelin’?”  
“Still kinda ick.. You want anything?”  
“Uh… Yeah. Can I get a beer from the fridge? Gurney left ‘em in there on Friday.” 

That’s it. Cliche maybe, but something she can work with. Lola nods and disappears back into the kitchen, the plastic bag she had hidden behind her back dangling between her fingers now as she pops open the fridge and sees the case of beer that had to belong to Gurney. Only one remained. Some Lite beer nonsense that she isn’t into, and she does not understand how Gurney can stomach it, but… He is Gurney after all. She pulls the empty box out of the fridge, dropping the bag into one of the slots with the last bottle still in another slot. She walks it out into the living room where Clint has already kicked off his shoes and plopped onto one of the beanbag chairs they had substituting for a couch until they could buy one. 

“Brought the box since it’s empty anyway.” She said casually, placing it beside him on the floor and pecking him on the lips. “I’m gonna go find something for dinner, let me know if you think of anything you want me to make, okay?”

“Okay, thanks babe. Love you.” With a pat to her ass she walks away, slipping back into the kitchen but peeking out at him while he turns on the TV and reaches for the beer. She can hear the bag crinkle and she sees him notice it too. He looks down and his brow furrows before he plucks the bag from the cardboard slot and unravels it, looking at the contents within. He’s entirely silent and quite honestly it takes him a long time to verbally acknowledge what he is holding. “...Babe?” 

Lola wanders out to meet him, innocently smiling. “Yeah?”   
“What’re these?”  
“Well… What do they look like?”  
“I dunno. Gurney’s girlfriends all use ‘em. I never seen this mark on them before though.” 

She lets him think on it a few more moments. Finally, it clicks. 

“Shit. Are you pregnant?”  
“I think so, yeah.”  
“Holy shit!” 

The noise he lets out is feral as he jumps to his feet and scoops her up, sweeping her off her feet in a jostling but gentle way. He swings her around and again she feels like she’s walking on air. “I’m gonna be a dad!” He shouts, finally letting her down when she complains of being dizzy. 

“I’m gonna be a dad.” He repeats, softer and with widening eyes.  
“Yeah…”  
“And you’re gonna be a mom.” He says this matter of factly. “A hot one, too. I’m gonna have to beat the guys and our kid’s friends off with sticks.” 

Lola laughs, hugging Clint tightly as he brushes her hair away from her face. This is another new and unexpected part of their journey living together, alone. In a sense, she is terrified. She remembers everyone around her growing up and how they spoke so negatively about childbirth. She wonders for a moment if she will have the strength to get through an entire pregnancy successfully. But, when Clint dips down to kiss her with more passion than she’s ever felt in her life, she thinks to herself that she can do it as long as they work together to make everything just right.


End file.
